Dusk and Summer
by dorkstrider
Summary: Dirk and Jake meet on summer vacation and kind of take a liking to each other. Rated M for later chapters!
1. Chapter 1

You're Dirk Strider, you're seventeen years old, and this is the first summer that you're going to spend without your best friend.

Roxy and you have spent virtually every day together since you were kids, since your older brother and her mom have been best friends since high school. Maybe it's genetic? You don't fucking know.

You and she both live on the coast of California, in a relatively small town. You've lived here most of your life. Your older brother Dave told you that when you were born the two of you lived in Texas, but damn if you remember it. The way he tells it, when you were a toddler he wrote some (purposefully stupid) movie, supposedly for the irony, and it broke big. Really big.

Before that, though, the four of you had lived in this apartment the size of a fucking matchbox together because neither Dave or Rose could afford to live on their own with kids to take care of. Rose got pregnant her sophomore year of college (you and Roxy swear that it was Dave who did it, because that's really the only feasible explanation for the two of you) and had to drop out, and Dave never wanted to go to university but basically didn't have any direction for his life besides, so for a while they were both pretty lost.

Maybe Dave's life would have been much easier if he hadn't had to take care of you. You never got the full details on what happened with that, now you think of it. You know there was some big argument and Dave left and took you (a kicking, screaming one year old at the time) with him. Maybe he didn't feel he had a choice, but you know having you was a challenge he'd never seen coming.

You vaguely remember the few years of the four of you living together. Roxy and you had shared cribs, food and everything in between while Rose and Dave survived on ramen and whatever shitty job they had going at the time. Dave never managed to keep his (more like never managed to keep his smart fucking mouth shut long enough to keep from getting fired). One of the scariest nights you can remember is listening to Rose and Dave have a major screaming match over the situation while Roxy cried into your shoulder.

Those weren't good times, but you and Dave were really close because he was almost all you had and you'd clung to him (literally and figuratively) day and night. The worst idea was of not having Dave around any more. You'd grown utterly dependent on him and on his presence to soothe you.

Things started changing, though. Rose wrote day and night on her shitty computer, and they weren't stories either you or Roxy understood when you asked her to tell you them. There were lots of big words and confusing metaphors and eventually the two of you got bored of asking. Dave wrote too, but his were funny. Dumb, but funny, and one of the few things that could get a big, genuine smile out of your big brother was when you laughed at his dumb jokes. A few months later, you'd been told to kiss Rose and Roxy goodbye and pack your things.

After that, the two of you moved to California and suddenly your big brother was in constant high demand where before people hadn't known that he even existed. Dave Strider became more of a big name and less of a big brother. It's not like he didn't try to make sure you had a semi-stable childhood- after he struck gold in Hollywood, he started sending you more money each week than you could ever possibly need. It was his version of making an effort.

For a while you mostly took care of yourself as you grew up, as you found babysitters incredibly patronizing and it didn't take you long to scare them off. Dave would call after each one left, increasingly exasperated, and you'd tell him about whatever ridiculous shit you pulled to get them to go away and he'd do his best to be suitably reproachful instead of proud. It's one of your proudest memories.

Soon, though, Rose and Roxy had moved out to California from New York and you weren't alone any more. The two of you spent virtually every second together, the only people that could really understand each other. That's how you've always thought of Roxy and probably always will.

Without her it would have been kind of a lonely way to grow up, and the thought of her not being around was always a discomforting one.

How the fuck did you even get onto this train of thought.

Oh- right. You're currently sitting on your front porch, setting the vacationers settling in next door with a vaguely intimidating and completely blank stare. Next door is Rose and Roxy's place, but they're away this summer- Rose is doing her book tour and didn't trust her daughter home alone, but they're letting one of Roxy's friends stay in their place while they're away. She'd been excited, told you that you were "rlly going 2 like him" and- yeah, that sounds like a setup. Damn if you're falling for it.

You take the time to evaluate them, which is probably just your snarky bullshit way of saying you're judging them. By some small mercy it's just two people, not some peppy nuclear family. There's an older woman with this huge fucking devilbeast of a white dog following after her, and some guy who looks to be your age. Then he's looking right back at you, catching you completely off guard, and for some reason you can't begin to fathom you almost smile. _Almost._

That's unnerving for you, so you get up, almost tripping over the step (fucking smooth, he better not have seen that) and going back inside. You pause, running a hand through your blonde hair before you strip down quickly, throwing your clothes aside. It's been a long time since you had any reservations about going around your house without clothes on, seeing as nobody's ever there but you anyway. Besides, if anyone did see it, they'd have nothing to complain about. Your body is fucking god-like.

It doesn't take you long to grab your board shorts- they're too big for you, _still, _but they hang nicely on your hips. Not too low, not too high, pretty much perfect. You're all about showing off, really- but people typically admire you from a distance.

You have no desire to encounter those two out the front again, so you go out through the back door. It's probably reckless to leave the house unlocked, especially during vacation season, but you don't really give a fuck. The only thing you care about in there is your laptop; you're currently learning how to program artificial intelligence with the help of your best friend. Sometimes you swear Roxy is going through it slowly for your benefit, because you're smart but Roxy is on a whole other level. That said, she's usually drunk, so you kind of have an edge.

You're deep in thought as you jog through the sand towards the water, waiting for the moment when your feet meet warm water. The smell of sea salt and sand is intoxicating, and you breathe it in, closing your eyes. These are the only moments of serenity that you get.

You slowly wade into the water, getting deeper and deeper until it's up to your shoulders, and you swim out still further. Away from the common places the tourists hang out, a little too deep for them to dare to go.

As you were growing up, most of your time was spent in the water, this ocean so close to your home. You feel safer in it than anywhere else in the world, and your proudest achievement is the fact that you can hold your breath for four and a half minutes (last time you checked).

Gracefully, you dive underwater, closing your eyes for a moment and just enjoying the feeling before you open them. The sea salt no longer stings, you're so used to it, and you're far enough out that you're surrounded by fish and coral. You dive down further, searching through things you've admittedly seen a thousand times before for any possible change. You're always looking for change, waiting for it even when it's extremely unlikely.

The tide is a little strong today, and you'd swim out to the rocks a little further away but you know if you knock your head on those, you're done. It's happened to people before; cocky tourists who aren't used to this water and basically have no idea what the fuck they're doing. Maybe another day you can do that.

You come back up for air, running a hand through your slick, blonde hair slowly and push it back. Years of exposure to salty water have left it looking kind of ridiculous in its natural state, but also pretty cool, you think. Right now it's smooth, though, and it reminds you of your bro's.

You keep thinking about him today and it's definitely time to stop that. Irritated with yourself, you begin swimming back to shore, occasionally diving under to let the tide direct you while you watch the underwater world go by; a world that is ultimately every kind of preferable to this one.

Once you reach the shore, you start walking along the beach, hoping nobody is looking after you. You're going to your favourite place in the world- totally secluded, because nobody knows it's there but you. And most people can't navigate the rocks that are in the way of getting to it- it takes a fair bit of experience with that kind of thing.

This is your place. It's sort of like a private beach, not far from a small cave which you have idly explored once or twice. It doesn't go very far, but you've slept there once or twice. The tide doesn't go up that far, and so you can light a fire and sleep soundly. You've always been so much more comfortable sleeping outdoors than indoors- it's like you feel trapped. Your thoughts and your feelings are limited to this small room in this small house whereas there's something so much bigger right outside your door. Something that can take all of you with barely any effort at all.

Lost in your thoughts, as ever, you lie down on the sand and bask in the warmth of the sun. You're drifting off into a lazy sleep, slowly, when something jolts you right back awake.

Another boy is looking down at you and you recognize after staring at him blearily for a moment that it's the same one from before. Holy shit. You scramble to your feet, glaring at him with your eyes blazing. _What the fuck._

It doesn't phase him for a second. "Good afternoon!" he says, his expression and his voice as warm and friendly as anyone's could possibly be. The accent is out of place in California- out of place in America, even. There's something faintly British in it, though you have a sneaking suspicion that it might be faked. "I hope I didn't scare you too much there, chap. I saw you coming around this way and thought it looked pretty darn exciting."

You stare at him, taking him in partly in irritation and partly in genuine curiosity; there's an almost childlike naivety in him, the kind that you never got to have. Part of you resents him for that- a pretty huge part, actually, but it's not really his fault. You let out an almost imperceptible sigh, your fists uncurling at your sides as you stare at him, asking the first question that pops into your head. "How the fuck did you get over those rocks, man? Shit can be deadly if you've never done it before."

He just shrugs, the smile never fading from his face. "We used to live on an island where there was a whole fucking lot of the bloody things, all over the place. Getting over them is hardly a challenge at all."

Alright, so you're faintly impressed. The dude actually knows what he's doing, and you raise an eyebrow, taking him in. He does have that same overexposed to sun look going on, though you think that might be his natural skin tone. Your tan is much lighter. His hair is dark, wavy and messy, like he's never bothered to brush it before in his life, and he has these eyes hidden behind thick, black square framed glasses.

These bright green, penetrating eyes, looking straight into yours and carrying this feeling of total sincerity and warmth. They're so unlike your own, golden orange and completely frozen. There hasn't been emotion in the way you looked at anyone or anything for a long time.

Wait. _Shit. _You left your glasses at home before you came down here and there's absolutely no way for you to cover your own eyes, which often inspire something between fascination- like you're a fucking attraction at the zoo just for having an unusual eye color- and fear. Dave used to jokingly call you his little devilchild; hence why you had begun religiously wearing your shades, except when you were swimming, of course.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, his brow creasing as he chews on his bottom lip a little anxiously. Of course he would have noticed you practically having a fucking panic attack over not having your shades. Ugh.

You shake your head slowly, just looking down at your feet and attempting to be as subtle about it as possible. Though he's already seen your eyes, it's possible the blatant strangeness of them hasn't registered with him and with any luck, he'll think you're just shy and avoiding eye contact for that reason. "Nah. Just a little disoriented, man, I was sleeping when you came crashing through here."

"I did try to be quiet!" he protests, and you can't help but let out a huff of laughter- and immediately hate yourself for it. This guy is no different to any other person who comes here over the summer. In two months he'll be gone.

You take a deep breath, still not looking at him. It's probably easier not to look at his face right now, anyway. "Next time you should try a little harder." You keep your tone as flat as possible, heading back towards the rocks to go back home.

There's one thing you weren't expecting, and that's the smack to your bare shoulder, hard but not _too _painful. You turn around, your expression utterly bemused and you aren't even trying to hide your eyes any more. Is this guy seriously trying to start something? _Fuck. _He's _that _kind of tourist.

"Don't be so frigging rude, man," he says, the smile faded from his face, which almost makes you feel guilty. Almost. "I don't even know your name and you're already running off!"

"Why does it matter?" you ask, genuinely curious. It's not like you're planning on having any kind of ongoing association with the guy. You're hardly best bros just because he's a fucking (attractive) weirdo who followed you here. And that Roxy invited him. That's not anything to you.

"Because that's the proper way that first meetings such as this are done! It's like you've never seen a movie before," he says, his eyes lighting up as he says it. Playing this out as a pure Hollywood scene apparently appeals far more to him than it does to you.

"My brother makes movies, so I think I've seen a few of them," you say, and there's an unidentifiable tone to your voice. You're sure your dissent is clear.

If anything, though, he just gets more excited and his glasses slip down his nose. He pushes them back up, a blinding grin spreading quickly over his face. "Wow, you aren't joking, are you? Who is he, what did he do? Am I going to get to meet him? I do hope I don't make a fool out of myself, haha."

The urge to roll your eyes is violently strong, but you ignore it. For now. "Somehow I doubt he's going to be around. But he did all the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff movies. Or moives, depending on how you look at it." You indicate the tattoo on your shoulder- one you got for purely ironic purposes, though your brother's approval of it was hardly a _downside._

His reaction is nothing less than you expected, and it's like all your suspicions have been confirmed- this guy is a shameless fanboy. His jaw actually fucking _drops, _and he stares at you, his eyes wide. "I- Your brother is Dave Strider? He's so-" Whatever he was going to say, he cuts himself off, and his cheeks slowly turn pink. "Golly, I'm making such a fool of myself. This is just rather exciting, I admire him quite a lot."

"That's just because you don't know him," you say, keeping your tone flat so he can't tell if that was supposed to be a joke. Honestly, you don't even know.

He frowns a little, and you notice he has these ridiculous buck teeth which are currently digging into his bottom lip. You want to deter any further questions about yourself or about Dave, and you silently wave goodbye to him before turning to go back over to the rocks and head home. But the boy being out of sight doesn't mean he's out of mind, and though you try to stop it your mind is occupied by him for the rest of the day.

* * *

The next few days are an exercise in how to avoid somebody who's far too close to you for comfort whilst also being painfully curious about them (but doing nothing to satisfy said curiosity).

The new guy next door is fairly persistent in becoming friends with you, and damn if you know why that is, because you've hardly been friendly towards him. It's not like he's being invasive- he doesn't come to your house or anything, but several times you go to climb over the rocks to your closed-off beach and he's there. It's impossible to tell how long he's going to wait, but you always abscond as fast as you possibly can.

Never have you taken such great pains to not be around someone, although… Well. Sometimes it feels like it's more from force of habit than anything else, from rejecting human contact for so long that it's something of a shock when it's offered. Nevertheless, you draw the curtains in your room and stay in there all day, occasionally wondering what it's like outside in the bright sunlight but not venturing out. Besides, you don't hold any real objection to just hanging around your house- less chance of running into other annoying passers-by, especially during tourist season.

After a week, you think you've probably gotten the message through his thick skull, and it's safe to leave again. It's a particularly hot day, roughly a hundred degrees in your room, and if you don't go swimming you think you might actually die. The air conditioner is functioning but you still feel gross and hot and _sticky. _You cannot deal with it any more. You have lost the ability you only really had a tenuous grasp on in the first place.

When you get down to the beach and take your first step into the water, nothing has ever felt so good. Today you don't climb the rocks- you decide to swim over. The water is calm enough that you can do that without any concern that you might do yourself a serious injury, by some small mercy.

By the time you notice him lying on the sand, it's too late and you're getting out of the water. You curse inwardly and hope that maybe you can be quiet enough to get the hell out before- oh, fuck, too late.

"Hey," he says a little timidly, and it's vaguely amusing to you that even in a situation as awkward as this, he's still as friendly as ever.

There's only one way to play this. Striders don't lose their cool, and you'll be damned if you're going to let that proudest family tradition down today. "Hey," you say, lying down on the soft, white sand- even better than you remembered it- and closing your eyes. "Not killing your privacy or anything here, am I?"

"Actually, I was, um. I was waiting for you."

You sit up, letting out a soft huff of derisive laughter. "That's not fucking weird at all."

"Hush your smart mouth for a second, Strider. I just wanted to apologize for any possible indiscretion on my part. I'm rather inexperienced in social things and such and it wouldn't be the first time I made a terribly embarrassing blunder, you see." He's talking fast, all of it coming out in a rush that you think anybody other than you probably wouldn't be able to interpret. "I may have reacted the way I did because- well, I quite admire your brother! He's an impressive man. But I find you more interesting. Everything about Dave Strider is public record, but you're quite the mystery. And so I've come to the decision that knowing more about you would probably be a pretty wonderful thing if you wouldn't object to it." Finally he stops for breath, his eyes anxious and trained on yours as he fidgets nervously.

You aren't quite sure what to say to all that. It's weird that he should have taken such an interest in you, considering he doesn't know a damn thing. But he seems so earnest and genuinely fucking harmless that you can't really bring yourself to say no, and there's also the fact that you're pretty interested in him too and you probably won't be satisfied until you find out more. You shrug. "Sure, why the hell not. Consider me your open book."

"Wonderful!" He reaches out to clap his hand to your shoulder, that same grin back in place. You've never met anyone so open and genuine in the way they smile before. It reaches all the way to his eyes, transfixes you in a way that is giving you cause for concern. "I'm Jake."

"Dirk," you reply, and it's barely more than a mumble. You have to look away from him for a minute, trying to make sense of your heart beating a little faster in your chest, and why having a face to put to this name makes you weirdly happy. It's all so confusing. "So. Where are you from?"

"Well, I'm sure I've told you we used to live on an island? Yes? So it's been quite the challenge to find somewhere that can measure up after that! We haven't really been staying in one place all too long." When Jake talks he's over-expressive, and he talks with his hands. You watch them carefully, like they'll say so much more than his words could. "It's a little exhausting to be perfectly honest with you. But we'll find somewhere soon."

There's a pause while you consider that, fit it in with what little you already know about him. You suppose it works. "Huh. I've lived here all my life. I have no idea what that would be like."

"I can tell," Jake says. "You climb over those rocks there like they're nothing more than pebbles." He drums his fingers on his knee for a moment, chewing his lip again, and you find yourself committing that to memory. Memorizing parts of Jake, his reactions, and trying to convince yourself it isn't weird as shit. "You must be really sick of people like me by now."

"Sure," you say, because there's no point in lying to the guy and that's not really the way you do things anyway. "But for the record, you seem a hell of a lot less obnoxious, which is why I'm not kicking your ass for tailing me right now."

He snorts, seeming exponentially relieved by that all the same. "Like you could."

"It's fuckin' adorable how delusional you are."

Jake jumps up, raising his fists and looking at you with this expression of sheer glee and excitement on his face. "Alright, Strider! Prove it. Take me down."

"You're not serious." On closer observation, though, it seems like he is. You wonder if you'll ever figure out what the hell is up with this guy. "Isn't it a little early in our relationship to be rolling around in the sand half-naked together?" You indicate your bare torso and his, which you… had not noticed yet, but hot damn. Apparently fucking around on some island has done him some pretty great favours.

He blushes this brilliant crimson and shakes his head virulently. "I'm not about to let you distract me with innuendo, good sir. I'm determined."

Normally you'd just humour the guy. Take him up on his challenge, have him beat and pinned down underneath you within seconds. But the very thought of that is a little… overwhelming and somehow you think it probably wouldn't be a good idea.

You search for an excuse and find nothing. Improvisation time. "Not feeling it today, man. Some other time." Fucking masterful work there, Dirk.

Jake probably notices that your cheeks have gone a little pink and that you're visibly flustered. It's hard to tell. He just gives you this huge smile, and- shit, the inside of your head is getting so sappy but you've never seen anyone smile like that. Ever. It's like he's never been hurt by anything in the world, it's so open and warm and you're irresistibly drawn to him.

That's not a good sign.


	2. Chapter 2

Dave comes home the next day because apparently miracles _do _happen. He walks through the door, looking exactly the same as the day he did the last time you saw him walk out. Same shirt, same shades firmly in place. His look is his own, it's unique, and you've seen other people try with results varying from terrible to really fucking terrible. They all just end up looking like douchebags.

(Admittedly, Dave looks like a douchebag. The difference is probably that he's fully aware of it.)

You're sprawled out on the couch when he comes in, and when you see him you try not to let your surprise- more like shock- show through in your expression. The Strider poker face is something the both of you have perfected- mostly around each other. You find with Roxy you're more expressive, more open, but with Dave it's just different. Always has been.

Keeping your voice as casual and monotone as you can, you greet him. "Yo." Totally non-committal, like he may as well not even be there. For all you know, he isn't, and this is just some tripped-out dream. That's actually more likely than him showing up for real.

"Your enthusiasm is contagious," he replies dryly, going over and shoving your feet off the couch to sit down next to you. You make a disgruntled sound and sit up, looking over at him, your expression hard and frozen.

"You expectin' me to bound up to your feet at the door like an attention starved puppy?" That came out way sharper than you'd intended but it could have been worse, you guess. You look away from him, pushing your shades into place.

"So you think you're attention-starved?"

"That's not what I'm saying." You let out a soft huff of frustration. "I'm just saying if you want a standing ovation for taking an hour out of your day to give a fuck about me, you aren't going to get it. I don't know why you're here, but I know it won't be for too long."

If you didn't know that Dave was a completely emotionless blank slate (it's just a fact), you'd think that his face fell a little at that. Maybe he even looked guilty. But you're imagining things, and you get up from the couch before you can come out with anything else stupid.

You go out the front door, your fists clenching and unclenching as you do.

From behind you, you could swear you heard him mutter 'yeah, I missed you too, kid'.

Jake isn't there when you go around to your place this afternoon. Thank God. You've been getting more and more worked up the further along the beach you go, and him seeing you in this state isn't something you particularly want.

Plus you doubt he'd understand why Dave coming back isn't the greatest thing to ever fucking happen. In fact Jake would probably flip shit and ask for his autograph, which is just not something you want to deal with right now.

You need to punch something, but there's nothing about but solid rock, and that'd easily break your fist. It's fucking frustrating as hell, and you run a hand through your hair, taking in a deep breath. Calm.

Maybe he's really trying this time. But the fact is that Dave has intermittently "tried" over the years, and the problem is that he just gets bored too easily. He'll hang around for a couple of weeks until he can't take it any more, and the next morning you wake up and there's a note and a thousand bucks on the kitchen table. That's just inevitably how it goes.

You don't expect much out of him any more.

It takes you a moment to realize how restlessly you've been pacing, and finally you just give up and flop down on the sand, squeezing your eyes shut. There's only one thing to do in this situation and that's to keep your expectations even lower than usual. You won't let Dave disappoint you.

There was a time when you admired him. Loved him more than anything or anyone else in the entire world. When you were a kid, and he was around more, you'd looked up to him as a hero. The way the entire world seemed to have its eyes on him, and sometimes you'd see him on TV and you loved that despite the entire world seemed to want a part of him, you were the only one who really got it. The only one he truly had time for, and the only one who really knew him. It was something to be proud of.

You were a smart kid, though, and it didn't take you long to realize you really didn't know all that much about him after all.

With that thought in your head, you gradually drift off into an unsettled sleep, the sun's rays warming your skin.

Once you get back to your house, neither you or Dave mention anything that happened before. That's just how the two of you have always done things, and for all that you overthink things, big overdramatic outbursts of feelings are just an impossibility.

However, something has shifted, that's for sure. But he has a vague idea of where you stand, and that's… something. You guess.

The house feels much smaller with him in it.

There's a knock at the door, and you expect it's some rabid fan who has recognized Dave's car in the driveway. Bright red and fucking ostentatious as anything could possibly be, it's as recognizable as Dave himself. You roll your eyes every time you see it.

But it's not; it's Jake, giving you this warm, bright smile that immediately makes your day feel that little bit less lame. God, you need to get a fucking grip on yourself.

"Mr Strider, I have a proposition for you!" he says, entering the house and apparently not thinking an invitation is necessary in the wake of his overenthusiasm about whatever crazy shit he might be planning. It's a little endearing if you're being entirely honest with yourself, not that you'd ever say that out loud.

"Alright, man. Lay it on me." You lean back against the wall, raising an eyebrow as you wait. Whatever it is, you know you'll probably end up going along with it if only to get out of this house.

"I was wondering if you were at all opposed to camping." When your expression simply grows more nonplussed, he hurries to give an explanation, green eyes bright with excitement. "On the beach! We have a tent. The two of us could set it up and it'd be a jolly great adventure, don't you think?"

It's hardly a concept you're unfamiliar with, and part of you kind of wants to kiss him for having had this idea. Hopefully you'll be able to hold off that impulse, though. "Sounds awesome, man. I can meet you around there in.. twenty minutes, it should take about that long to get all my shit. Do I need to bring anything specific?"

"Specific?"

You shrug. "Food, pot, whatever you're looking for really."

You were really only joking with that last one but Jake is staring at you, his eyes wide behind those ridiculously thick glasses. "You have access to things like that?"

The thing is that if you had any inclination to want things like that, you could get it easily. This is California, after all, and you're pretty sure it's legal. However you've never really enjoyed losing control of yourself, which seems to be the point of taking things like that. That's your understanding of it, anyway. "I do," you reply easily, a smirk curling up the corner of your mouth because his reaction to this ought to be priceless. You can just imagine the thousands of Just Say No ads running through his mind right now.

His jaw drops, but he quickly closes it, his cheeks flushing still darker. "Well. You certainly are a man of mystery, Mr Strider, but I believe I'll have to pass on your offer this time around."

Internally, you let out a sigh of relief, though your expression remains as blank as ever. "Your loss."


	3. Chapter 3

Just as you're about to head out the door to meet Jake on the beach, a hand reaches out and takes a firm grip of your shoulder. Dave. You turn, raising an enquiring eyebrow but saying nothing.

"So, who is she?" he asks, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

Naturally he'd assume that you're straight. Sometimes it's almost like he _wants _to prove he knows nothing about you. "Don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, stepping back from his hand and opening the front door.

"Dirk," he says, and that stops you in your tracks. In all your life you doubt you've ever heard him call you by your first name, and an embarrassing lump rises in your throat. _Fuck. _"I'm not a fucking imbecile."

You swallow it down, but your expression is completely giving you away and you know it. You just shake your head, unable to say anything, because explaining about this to Dave is the very last thing on your agenda tonight. Especially since you yourself have no idea what this is and that terrifies you.

After a while he speaks again, that same cool drawl he's always had. That hint of an accent is there; yet another part of his signature and what makes him unique. "You're different now, kid. Something happened to you."

"In a shocking development Hollywood superstar Dave Strider discovers that sometimes people change. More at eleven."

"Don't be an ass," he snaps, and you actually flinch because you've never seen him lose his cool before in your life. Except in interviews for dramatic effect. You never really understood why he did that. "I'm fucking here, and you're leaving. And it's not just this time around; you pull this shit _every _time. I don't know how you can bitch and whine about how goddamn absent I am and then never be here when I am."

"Maybe I'm not as dependent on you and your fucking approval as you think I am."

"And maybe pigs will fly. We can only imagine."

There's a fierce battle of wills at that moment, wherein the two of you lock eyes- your own exposed orange- gold locked on red ones concealed behind dark glasses, as always. You don't actually know what the two of you are fighting for but you'd like to think it's worth all this melodrama. But then you doubt a Strider exists that didn't have some kind of flair for the dramatic.

Finally you look away, a blush creeping over your cheeks. "I have somewhere to be," you say, your voice clear as ever and not showing even a hint of the shame that you feel. Then you turn and leave, a million thoughts racing through your mind.

* * *

When you see Jake that entire conversation goes out of mind. It's difficult to be moody around him because he's so optimistic, so hopeful. You find sometimes that it's contagious, not that you'd ever admit to it or show it.

He just puts you in a better mood without even trying. You wonder if he knows.

"Evening, Strider!" he calls out cheerily as you climb over the last rock, and you have to wonder how in the hell he got the tent over, not to mention all the other shit. He really is an enigma. "I hope you're prepared for a damn good night."

"Sure," you say, loping over to him lazily and sitting down on the sand, spreading out. "So what've you got lined up for us, Jake? I'm expecting nothing less than a night of wild debauchery."

"Sorry to disappoint you, chap," he says, chortling and casting you a fondly amused look. It's something that makes your heart do things it shouldn't in your chest. "It'll all be rather tame by that standard! But I got a DVD player and some of the finest films ever to be conceived. Swiped some of my father's alcohol, too," Jake says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

There's a moment when you almost break your pokerface to smile at that, because he's clearly so proud of himself. Like this is some big rebellious act. "And to think you acted so scandalized when I offered you drugs earlier. You've misled me."

"Oh, do shut up," he replies, though he's still laughing to himself as he throws you a beer, which you fumble with and almost drop. But he didn't see so it's okay.

You help him set up the tent, both of you puzzled by certain parts of it for a while, but you drink and manage to make a joke out of it and the time goes by fast.

The sun is starting to go down, and you grab Jake's wrist- very, very carefully not grabbing his hand, because that would carry connotations you aren't ready to face- and pull him down onto the sand next to you.

No words are really said as you both look out at it, because you don't need to say anything. But the glow from the slowly setting sun matches the warm glow inside you, because you've never been truly close to anyone before.

You've never really had a friend before, come to think of it, with the exception of Roxy. She's a hacker slash programmer who you met online at some point, and at first with the typos and apparent ditziness it had been hard to take her seriously. But she had managed to single handedly practically destroy your system and reconstruct it again, and ever since you've had nothing but the utmost respect for Roxy. She's probably as smart as you are, if not more so.

But that isn't really the same. You're actually _close _to him right now, close enough to reach out and touch him if you so desired. Friendship is a strange and unfamiliar emotion for you.

Jake turns to look at you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, and you meet his gaze. There's a long, strange moment between the two of you, and you realize that you're actually holding your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You need to take back control of this situation before it gets out of hand and you do something to mess this up.

You spring up from the sand, keeping your expression as blank as ever. "Hey. I want to show you something."

He gets up, slinging his arm over your shoulders in a manner that is probably completely platonically affectionate but you find yourself leaning just a little into the warmth of his body- you're rarely touched. "Lead the way, Strider."

"You can swim, right?" You raise an inquisitive eyebrow, watching him and being careful to check for any hint of a lie as you wait for his response.

Jake's expression lights up as he nods enthusiastically. "I used to do it all the time on my island! It's why I was rather pleased about coming to stay in a beachside town."

"Okay. This is maybe ten minutes away for a strong swimmer, so you should be fine. Just let me know if you get tired." You shoot him the faintest hint of a smile, which is more than you've come out with in quite a while, before going over to the water and easily stepping into it.

To let Jake see you in your element is quite an allowance, you think. This is something you don't really share with anyone, because you consider this ocean the one thing you can trust. To be comfortable with something so dangerous and so powerful is an intoxicating feeling.

He follows after you easily in the water, and you're glad that there's no rip tonight, because this is something you really wanted to show him. It's odd how you're slowly opening up to him, especially since you never thought that you'd want to.

And it's only been a week.

There's a small bay of rocks a little further out, connected to a tiny sandy island. You like it there- it's just before the water drops off where it gets truly deep. It's a dividing line, between the ocean and the beach. You've always found something deeply significant in that, though you can't quite think of how to put words to it.

Once you reach it, you pull yourself out of the water onto the rocks and settle on them, tipping your head back. Water drips from your blonde hair as you shake yourself off, and when you look back to Jake you see he's watching you with his eyes slightly widened.

He blushes when you meet his gaze, though, and hurriedly gets onto the rock next to you. There's distance between you, but you're close enough to put your hand over his, which you do- 'accidentally'.

"You can see the lights from the town from here," you say after a minute of enjoying the feeling of Jake's hand under yours. "Seeing everything, but not being a part of it.. it's weird, man. Like you're observing people's lives from some other planet."

"That's a little bit what you do, though, isn't it?" Jake says, his voice almost timid, and your confusion is visible on your face as you look over to him. He hurries to explain himself, practically stumbling over his words. "Well. Not that I'm judging, or anything, but you don't really participate in the life around here. You watch everyone but want no part of it. It's odd."

This takes you by surprise because you hadn't realized he was paying that much attention. "I guess, yeah. Kinda sick of how things are around here. It's not like it ever changes." You're struck by an overwhelming impulse to add _until I met you._

Jake seems satisfied by that response, and leans over, just barely resting his body against yours. Your hearts beats faster because you don't know how to be close to him like this and you don't know how to explain what he makes you feel.

"You know my brother came home," you say, and your voice is strangely quiet when you do. You sound almost vulnerable, and you fucking hate that.

Jake pauses, clearly trying to figure out what the correct response to that is. Thankfully he understands that fanboyish glee is not the way to go. "I take it that you are hardly overjoyed by this."

"I don't really… Being around him is hard." You're dancing a line between honesty and reservation and you know eventually you're going to have to pick one. Not yet, though. "He's been away so long and he's missed everything. Dude still thinks- never mind." It's not the time to have the whole coming-out conversation. "But he comes home, expecting me to treat him the same way the rest of the world does, when I don't look at him that way. I fucking can't. Because I know every goddamn day he chose his other life over mine."

You're battling genuine emotion for the first time in a long time, and you know it must be showing because you don't have your shades to hide it. You are raw and exposed and you can't do anything to help it.

Jake looks about the same that you do. It's something you've always noticed; his kindness, and his empathy. "That explains a lot about you, you know," he says slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully. "You want to not care any more. You want to be as closed off as you pretend to be, but I'm afraid you aren't quite pulling it off, Dirk." His tone is as gentle as he can keep it, and tentatively, he reaches out to gently brush his fingers over your cheek, slow and affectionate. You close your eyes; his hands are soft, and you can feel the care in the tender touch.

"You're the only person who didn't give up, even when I was a real ass to you in the beginning there," you say after a minute, biting down on your bottom lip. There's no way you're showing any more emotion tonight; you don't want to strain yourself. "But soon enough you're going to leave too. So can you really blame me for not wanting to care."

A long pause, during which he is clearly registering the implications of your comment. You care about him, and you care about him enough to want him to stay around. "Maybe you should learn to take advantage of what you're given while you have it," he says finally, looking down to where your hand is resting over his.

Your fingers curl around his, and a shiver runs through the both of you, because this feels right. And you can't take it further tonight- you're too emotionally drained for that kind of thing- but for now, this works.

It's a promise of sorts. It's you telling him _not now, but soon. _

And that terrifies you, but not enough for you to want to stop where this is going.


	4. Chapter 4

You spend all of the next day with Dave, because Jake's words are still fresh in your mind. He's made some kind of effort to be here, so fuck it.

Dave seems relieved to say the least; why, you can't be sure. Maybe he thought you really, truly hated him, and if there's anything you know about your big brother it's that he isn't as impervious to criticism as he likes to pretend. It always hits him like a punch to the face, but he's a good actor and years of needing to hide his emotions in front of cameras have made him an expert at it. The only reason you can see through the perpetual mask is because you know him so well.

The two of you spend it the way you always used to when you were a kid; watching stupid movies and making the same dry, sarcastic comments that you always do, and practicing swordfighting (swords blunted, of course, because you have had some pretty bad accidents before) out on the back lawn; much to the alarm of casual passersby. It makes you laugh hard enough that Dave manages to take you down easily.

Later on you order Chinese food and sit in your kitchen bitching as always over how shittastic it is. But both of you know that you will never really care enough to change where you choose to go for your food.

It's a comfortable, easy routine and it's one that you used to look forward to. You always do the same thing every time Dave came back, and for the first time in a long time you're actually enjoying it again. You'd wonder what changed except that you know.

Dave's picked up on it too, and he eyes you over the heaped plate of food he's got in front of him. The guy eats his weight in food every day and never gains any weight, he's physically impossible. He clears his throat, looking straight at you; his gaze is penetrating even from behind his dark shades. "I take it you had a good time with your girl last night."

"There's still no girl," you reply exasperatedly, and it's technically not a false statement, because there's never been a girl. Except for that brief thing with Roxy…. but that was always destined to failure and if anything, helped you in realizing certain things about yourself. It barely lasted a week.

"I haven't seen you smile or laugh in three fucking years, and you're acting like there ain't someone who's been putting you in a better mood. Out with it, little dude." He crosses his arms over his chest, pushing the plate aside.

At the worst possible time, there's a knock at the front door, and you know exactly who it is. Dave sees your expression and for a split second there's a look of absolute glee on his own face, before it goes back seemingly automatically to that perfect poker face. "Looks like I'm about to find out, anyway."

"Fuck off, bro," you say urgently, getting up from the couch and resisting the urge to actually tackle him. That might be something of an overreaction. Still, you're at his heels all the way over to the door, trying to pull him back, but it's to no avail.

Dave swings the door open, and there's Jake, with this warm, bright smile on his face. You can't help from smiling a little in return, forgetting for a moment that Dave is even there.

It's only brief, though, since Jake is literally gaping at him and Dave looks about as surprised to see him. It'd be funny if it weren't a truly awkward moment, and none of you really seem to know exactly what to say.

"…Well, damn, little dude. You sure made me look like an ass," Dave says finally, ever the elaborate speaker. Still, at least he's making an effort. "Could've told me you were into dudes. It's not like I give a shit."

Jake blushes furiously, his cheeks turning dark red as he sticks his hand out. "Er, it's a pleasure, Mr Strider. I'm a big fan of your work and such, you know."

He takes it, shaking his hand slowly, and you don't think you've ever seen your brother struggle for words before. Quick witted master of irony, your ass. "Thanks, kid. Apparently you're a big fan of my bro too."

You roll your eyes, reaching out to take Jake's hand and pull him inside before letting go of him just as fast. "It's not like that. He's just a friend, he's here for the summer."

"You hate vacationers," Dave states outright, and you're a little surprised that he's noticed that much. It's all you can do to restrain yourself from giving him a round of applause.

"This one's different," you say without really thinking before you speak, and immediately regret it when you see the fucking smirk on Dave's face. Jake, however, looks so pleased with himself over that small fact that you can't bring yourself to regret it too much.

"I, er… if you two are busy then I can leave, you know," Jake says a little awkwardly after a few minutes, wherein Dave has been fixing him with an expressionless gaze, as though he's looking straight through the guy.

Almost instantly Dave shakes his head, stepping back from the door and indicating for him to come in. "Me and the kid weren't up to anything too important, you can chill here with us. Figure I should probably get to know you anyway."

That sets off your internal panic systems just a little bit and you clench your fists, carefully watching the exchange between the two of them. But you know if Dave starts getting too weird and intense about this it won't be hard to take Jake somewhere else.

Jake, understandably, looks mildly intimidated but he steps inside anyway, fixing Dave with a wide if slightly nervous grin as he does. It's funny to watch him obviously searching for words, because for all that he's heard about him from you, Dave is still one of his heroes. You roll your eyes, but it's more affectionate than anything else.

Shit, what's happening to you.

You aren't counting on Dave's current silence to remain, and sure enough about half an hour into the next movie you're watching he turns to Jake, casually firing every question that comes into his head at him.

It's like a scene out of one of the bad movies he so often mocks; parent giving his child's new boyfriend the third degree, except Dave isn't your parent and Jake isn't your boyfriend but none of that seems to matter. You cringe a little.

Finally, he turns his head and fixes you with a long stare, and it shouldn't be possible with both of you having shades on but if anything that just makes it more intense.

"So," he says, voice completely flat. "Did you two do it yet?"

Jake splutters and half the Pepsi he was drinking goes over his shirt. You manage to remain composed, somehow, though your cheeks are slowly colouring. Still, not replying would be like letting him win, and so you do whilst being careful to keep your voice and expression as emotionless as his. It's like the weirdest contest anybody ever participated in. "All night, every night, bro," you say. "I've never been so worn out in my life, Jake's a fucking animal."

"_Dirk!_" Jake splutters, his cheeks violently red and he puts his face in his hands. Dave lets out a barely perceptible snort of laughter and turns back to his food, clearly satisfied. And you know you've done well.

"He did ask," you reply, reaching over and placing a hand on his thigh before squeezing it. It's an entirely playful gesture and you pull your hand back after a second, but Jake's eyes are wide and if anything his cheeks go even redder.

Dave gets up from the couch, shaking his head. "Alright, kid, you win. You never did know how to play fair." He smacks you on the back of the head, not _too _hard, and heads to his bedroom- either to do work or get away from the display you're putting on out here, it's hard to tell. Probably both.

"What in the name of Christ was all that about?" Jake asks, his eyebrows knitted together. You shrug and throw your arm casually around his shoulders, a smirk curling up the corners of your mouth.

"He thinks we're together. May as well have some fun with it, you know."

The amusement you'd expected from him isn't there; instead, he stiffens a little, and it's hard to miss the hurt that crosses briefly over his face. "So this thing is a joke for you."

"What's 'this'? There isn't a 'this'," you say quickly, and though your expression remains blank your heart is beating fast in your chest, because you and Jake haven't outright discussed anything that might be going on. But you think of his fingers brushing over your cheek, of watching him fall asleep the other night whilst being as close to him as you could, comfortably, and you know there is definitely a this.

"I see," Jake says quietly, and the hurt in his voice is so obvious that you bite down on your inner cheek to keep from reaching out to him, holding back words that are threatening to spill out. You'd made a promise and now it seems like you're well and truly breaking it.

An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you, but your arm is still around his shoulders and neither of you seem to have any inclination of pulling away. This, you think, is sort of like a test. He could quite easily choose to leave right now and not come back. Whether he does or not will tell you all that you need to know.

But there is no movement. Jake stays firmly at your side, and you know that he knows what you were probably waiting for. It would have been easy for him, but he's still here. It's embarrassingly overwhelming to you to be honest, and it takes a few minutes for you to get yourself back under a reasonable amount of control before you can speak to him.

"There's only a this if you want there to be a this," you say, trying to keep your voice steady but the heavy implications of your statement keep you from accomplishing that.

Jake looks up, his surprise written all over his face. The two of you stay like that for a minute, and it feels like his gaze is practically penetrating through your shades. He's trying to read you, trying to tell if you're messing with him, probably, and it makes you a little uneasy.

Finally, he speaks. "Then I suppose that we are a this."

It's like you can feel his words as he says them, and you start a little when you feel his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You've never been a fan of excessive contact but this is more than okay. When Jake touches you, it's comforting. His hand is warm against your skin and you didn't think you could _feel _affection in a touch but apparently you have been proven wrong.

You want to touch him back, kiss him a little, maybe. But right now this is all you can take. This is all of yourself that you can give to another person at this moment, and you know Jake understands. Because, like always, he just kinda gets it.


	5. Chapter 5

This day is the first of a lot of a things with Jake. The first of the firsts is the kiss.

Some days you don't see him. His grandmother tends to take him out some days, and they get in her dusty four wheel drive with that giant monstrosity of a dog and then they're gone for the entire day. You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice his absence, but it's not like you lie around pining for him all day. At this point you've been dating or whatever the hell it is you're doing for three weeks, and you're pretty used to this kind of thing.

You kill the time listening to Roxy complain on Pesterchum about how she wishes she was home and stopping yourself from pointing out that when she's back she'll tell you she wishes she was back in LA, reading, playing with Cal (you're still considering how to introduce your best friend/puppet to Jake, because this is a matter of crucial importance) and thinking about going out to talk to Dave but never actually doing it.

Roxy's halfway through telling you about how she met her new best friend in LA, some girl named Jane who she seems to be pretty smitten with (that's a new one, but who are you to judge) when you hear their car pull in next door.

It could be anything from an hour to a day before Jake decides to come see you, but you want to be available when he does. God, you're like his fuckin' wife these days, and it's more than a little embarrassing.

For times like these, you recently programmed your own autoresponder. It took the best part of two months to get it exactly the way you wanted it- programming was honestly always more Roxy's thing, she's a genius with it and you probably would have fucked it right up without her help. But now the thing is virtually indistinguishable from you. It's a little unnecessary considering Roxy is virtually the only person you talk to, but some days interaction just doesn't seem worth the effort, so that's what the autoresponder is for.

The main problem with it was Roxy kind of taking a shine to it. Sometimes you tease her (only half joking, but she doesn't know that) that she likes it more than you. She hasn't denied it yet.

You switch it on anyway and get up, looking out your bedroom window. Jake's on the front lawn like the very first time you saw him, and your heart kind of… skips a little. Embarrassing as hell. Sometimes you forget he's your boyfriend and the fact kind of strikes you all over again.

You're sort of studying him as you watch him without even realizing. Jake teases you a lot about your staring and it'd be weird to explain to him how it's like you're memorizing him so you'll still be able to picture every inch of him when he leaves.

3. Like always, you're so wrapped up in your thoughts that it startles you when he's suddenly at your window, grinning at you widely. He's got this crazy buck teeth that are always really noticeable when he smiles like that.

You fiddle with the window latch, getting increasingly impatient as it refuses to open, but finally it does and Jake climbs through it, landing in a completely undignified mess on the floor. You let out a snort of laughter as he looks up at you indignantly, brushing himself off.

"Oh, do shut up," he says and you raise a eyebrow at him- both a question and a challenge.

"Make me."

There's a pretty clear unspoken message in that, one that neither of you have really done much about yet. His green eyes look uncertain behind his thick glasses, and he's standing there for a minute completely still. It's so tense between the two of you that you're almost afraid to move.

Finally, finally, he takes an uncertain step forward and cups your cheek in one warm hand. You don't even have time to ask what he's doing before he removes your shades, setting them aside and almost dropping them. Jesus, his hands are actually shaking.

It's bright in your room and you have to blink a few times before your eyes will adjust- they're painfully sensitive to light, being such a strange colour. And when you do you see Jake a lot more intensely. Every freckle on his nose, every eyelash. He's so close that you could just-

The two of you lean in at the same time and you're _kissing him _and fuck, how have you never done this before. Jake's not great at it- he clearly has no goddamn idea what to do, and his hand awkwardly grasps at your shirt as his lips move clumsily against yours, his ridiculous buck teeth digging into your bottom lip a little, but that's why it's also kind of perfect.

Jake huffs against your lips and moves to pull back, and you only allow him a few seconds to catch his breath before you're pressing against him again, your mouth moving a little more insistently against his and your hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

You and Jake never really touch much- he's always incredibly respectful of your personal space, always acts like a total gentleman. For a long time you were very grateful for that, but now, well…

You're a little sick of it. You want him to very definitely not be a gentleman with you.

It's not long until Jake pulls back again, panting softly with his lips red and kiss bruised. It's more than a little hot, and he has to push you back when you lean in to kiss him again. "Not that this isn't excellent or anything, Strider, but you're distracting me. I wasn't expecting to be a surprise competitor in the two person tongue Olympics when I came over."

"Then why are you here?" you ask, frowning slightly because whatever it is is almost definitely not as important as making out with your boyfriend.

"My grandmother wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight!" Jake said, and how he manages to constantly maintain this level of enthusiasm is a mystery to you. "She says I'm not to take no for an answer."

"And if I had other plans for us tonight?" You keep your expression as blank and innocent as possible, but there's no way he'll miss the implication.

Well. There is, because it's Jake, but you hope he doesn't.

It takes a minute, and he frowns at you and you can practically hear the question on his lips- we didn't make any plans for tonight. It strikes him after a moment, though, and you swear you can see his blush even through his dark skin. "Well, you- you will just have to postpone those plans, Strider."

He's clearly not going to give in, so you just shrug and pout a little, reaching up to run your fingers through his dark hair slowly, tugging a few messy strands into place here and there. "Alright, alright. What time am I expected for this wild party."

Jake grins widely at you, and you're definitely not missing the quiet, contented noises he makes at the touches to his hair. You'll keep it in mind for later. "No later and no earlier than seven thirty." He smacks you gently on the arm, green eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "I'm expecting you to be on your best behaviour or there will be severe consequences.

You smirk a little. "What, are you gonna s-"

Jake cuts you off before you can say it. "Lord, you're incorrigible."

"Sorry." You're not even a little sorry and he knows it. You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him hard again, parting your lips and nipping at his bottom lip. He huffs softly, leaning into it, and this time it's your time to pull back.

"You should probably go back. Also, tidy yourself up. What's your grandmother gonna think?"

"You bastard," he says, pressing one more kiss to your lips before turning and going to climb out the window again.

It's gonna be a good night.

* * *

Jake's grandma greets you at the door that night with a tight hug, which you return a little stiffly because you're still barely used to Jake touching you. But it's seemingly impossible to not warm up to her, and within five minutes you've taken a very definite shine to her.

It's easy to see where Jake gets his boundless energy and enthusiasm. She insists that you call her Jade, refuses to let you help with any of the food and treats you like her own from the second you walk through the door. She's openly affectionate with her grandson, and Jake protests a little and acts embarrassed but it's all a big act and pretty clear he adores her more than anything.

The huge white dog leaps on you and knocks you the hell over- Christ, what the hell do they feed this thing. Jade pulls him off you, laughing and you swear the woman is seventy years old and stronger than you are.

You like her already.

"So," she says, when you're all sitting at the table eating some- pumpkin thing. You have no idea, but you have never seen a kitchen with more pumpkins in your life. Apparently they were a major resource on the island they used to live on. "I hear your brother is a big star, Dirk! When do I get to meet him?"

Like grandmother, like grandson. "At my and Jake's wedding next fall," you say, shooting her a grin and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Dave has promised to walk me down the aisle."

"So I'd be the groom in this hypothetical scenario?" Jake asks, looking over to you.

Under the table you rest your hand on his knee, sliding it up to his thigh slowly and then stilling it. You haven't completely abandoned your plans from earlier. "You'd better believe I'm wearing the dress, Jake."

His eyes widen behind his glasses but he does his best to keep a straight face. Jake isn't nearly as good as it as you, but one notable thing is that he certainly isn't trying to get you to move your hand.

Jade laughs, and it's like nothing you've ever heard. She's so open and cheerful and you've never known anyone like her in your life. She's definitely nothing like your brother. Jake is lucky. "I'm glad you two found each other. Jake never had much opportunity to make friends, it used to worry me a little!"

Because you have no shame whatsoever, your hand slides up a little higher, rubbing small circles onto the inside of his thigh and squeezing gently. "Trust me, we're getting pretty well acquainted."

Jake looks like he might pass out, and you can't help but allow yourself a private little smirk because it kind of seems like you've won right now even though you didn't know you were competing.

Then he says something that kind of completely throws you off.

"I think Dirk might need to stay the night, Grandma."


	6. Chapter 6

"You," Jake growls softly in your ear with one hand tightly fisted in your blonde hair, "are in a whole friggin lot of trouble, Mister Strider."

Jake's eyes are looking into yours, that deep green colour somehow even more piercing in this context. You'd known this was going to happen, no way Jake could have meant anything else when you'd been so openly teasing him all night and then he more or less told you- didn't ask, _told _you- to stay the night.

The night had dragged way too slowly but now it's going way too fast and Jake is _on top of you, _heavy and warm and everything you wanted him to be_. _Yeah, you've gotten way in over your head, and you don't regret it for a second.

Jake's mouth is on yours, hot and demanding and eager as he slides his tongue into your mouth, and you groan softly underneath him, your hands sliding awkwardly down his sides to rest on his waist and tug at the band of his pants.

"I'd say I'll never do it again but I don't want to lie to you," you murmur, kissing over his jaw and down his neck. The two of you are going to need to stay quiet because Jade is a few rooms away and fuck knows the woman probably has better hearing than you do, so you muffle the noises you're holding back by sinking your teeth into his neck and sucking hard. God, you want to mark him up, you want everyone to see that Jake English is fucking yours and you aren't letting him go.

He lets out this sharp gasp on top of you, his grip tightening in your hair and you pull back after a moment, smirking at him a little as your heart pounds in your chest.

He pulls back, staring at you as he quickly pulls his shirt up. You take that as your cue, though in all honesty you're a little self conscious. You're not exactly a stick but you've always been too slender to have much muscle tone and then there's Jake, who is just miles of pretty, dark skin and lean muscle. He's just- fucking pretty.

When you pull him to you again to kiss him, long and deep and full of the desire you don't know how to verbally express, he moves against you at this _really good angle _and the friction in the lower half of your body is- oh. Oh, Jesus. You're gonna need to do that again.

Jake stares at you with wide eyes and you know he felt it too. He tugs at your hair and it seems he's not really the vocal type, only letting out these breathy little pants and your name in between soft, barely audible moans. You, however, are much louder and much needier and you aren't letting this end just yet.

You hike up your leg around Jake's waist, kissing him eagerly again as you grind up your hips together and he hisses and bites at your lip at the sensation that shoots through him- through both of you. You're much more audible, you moan out and scratch your nails down his neck slowly.

Some part of you is saying shit, you need to calm down or this is gonna be over before it even really had a chance to begin but there's another, much more dominant part that's saying if you stop you'll die. You choose to listen to that part.

Jake's moving back against you now, and there's this incredibly frustrating barrier of clothes separating you but neither of you can really stop long enough to remove them. You let out these soft, frantic noises as you move back against him eagerly, tipping your head back and gasping out as the two of you drive each other fucking insane with friction that isn't even near to enough.

You pull back first, meeting Jake's gaze which betrays the same incredible need that you feel and you start working at your own pants, tugging them down (you might have gone commando, for tonight, simply for the purpose of revealing that information to Jake at some point to tease him with it but that seems kind of pointless now).

It takes entirely too long but finally the two of you are naked, pressed up against each other and you slide your palm over Jake's chest slowly, exploring each inch of his chest despite your impatience. You pinch his nipple between your fingers and he pushes up against you needily- duly noted. That definitely does something for him.

Suddenly his hand is sliding down between the two of you and it's awkwardly wrapping around both of you. You're hard as hell and the feeling of Jake against you does things to you that you wouldn't fucking believe. He starts jerking you both off in rough, unpracticed strokes that are more out of need than anything else. Jake's panting softly against you, his chest heaving and all you can do is let out these low whines and his name, over and over again.

God, he's already got you close and this has barely even begun and you scratch slowly down his back, desperate for anything to hold onto as he jerks you both rough, and finally he's getting a little more audible too as he gets closer. "I love you, I love you," he pants out, and you don't have time to pause or think about it as you rock your hips up desperately into his hand, your voice a little muffled by his neck.

"I love you too, Jake, Jesus Christ.."

Somehow those words are like dirty talk to him and it only takes a few more hard strokes before he's coming, hot and hard over your chest and his stomach and he never stops moving his hand, never stops touching you and your back arches up violently as your entire world goes white.

* * *

The next morning you wake up and the entire room is flooded with light- since when do you not draw the curtains at night? Shit, you can't think, it's too bright and distracting in this room.

It doesn't take you long to realize this isn't your bed. It doesn't feel like your bed or your room and it's too warm and it smells kind of different and weird.

Oh, right. You're with Jake. His arms are draped over you as he rests against you, which explains why you're so warm. Jake fucking radiates heat all the damn time, it's a thing that's hard not to notice.

You feel kind of gross and pretty incredible at the same time, and it doesn't take long for you to remember why. You don't think you'll be forgetting that in a while, and your cheeks flush with heat. It's time for a shower.

You can't believe this is your fucking life, to be completely honest. You're sneaking out of your boyfriend's bedroom to go shower, completely naked after having (kind of) sex with him the night before. Surreal as shit.

You're also pretty pleased with yourself. You climbed that whole Jake mountain. You did it, kid.

There's an obstacle in your current mission, though: you have no idea what the hell is going on in Jake's bathroom.

It's just all wrong. Things aren't where they're supposed to be and it's about as messy as his room is- which you couldn't fail to notice this morning. Jake is fucking scruffy and you can deal with it up until it disturbs you from your ablutions.

Also you have no goddamn idea how this shower works. Shouldn't this turn there and then- No, fuck, that was the wrong thing to do. What the hell. This is not going as planned and its time to abort mission, you think- except this is crucial. You're sticky in all the wrong places and you can't take it one minute longer.

A new mission begins. Get home, shower there, hope to hell Dave doesn't notice you coming back and Jake doesn't realize you were ever gone. It's damn near flawless.

You go back to Jake's room, getting dressed as quietly as possible and keeping an eye on him the whole time. How is he even still sleeping- you're fairly sure you made wounded dog noises in the bathroom when you were trying to figure out his shower. In this case, though, you're going to count yourself lucky because it's pretty convenient and- shit, he's cute when he's sleeping. His hair is all in his face and if you don't leave you're going to go on a long internal monologue about this instead of completing your mission while you have the time.

Tearing yourself away from staring at him, you dress quickly, wincing as you think about how fucking gross you're probably making your clothes right now. Time to dispose of them, you guess. Your exit is swift and god damn, you are unbeatable, you are goddamn ninja superman-

You forgot about Jade, you total dumbass.

There's no way that she doesn't recognize that you are pretty much rocking the walk of shame right now. "Going somewhere?" she asks, and yeah, that's the most smug, knowing look you've ever seen on anyone. Jade's clearly just woken up (apparently the heavy sleeper gene isn't genetic) and you wonder just what she heard last night- you aren't exactly quiet. Streams of unintelligible cursing run through your mind.

"Uh." You rub the back of your neck in embarrassment and stare down at your feet, wishing you'd remembered to grab your shades from Jake's bedside table. "Gonna go home and shower off the, uh-" Stop that sentence right now. "…Sleep?" Nice save, boy genius. She'll never know.

She lets out this snort of laughter and oh Christ, you're actually blushing, how embarrassing. Although there are probably worse ways for your boyfriend's grandmother to respond to you getting handsy with him. "You better come back, Dirk, or I'll set the dog on you."

In the corner, the huge mass of white fur shifts and sets beady, black eyes on you. Creepy. They're way too in tune with each other for you to be comfortable with it.

"I'm not the one night stand kind of girl," you reply quickly before you can stop yourself; smartass reflexes are hard ones to break. Jade cracks this wide grin that shows all her teeth and her eyes- similar in color to Jake's, though they're a lighter but no less intense green- light up. You slip out the door before she can respond.

There's been enough embarrassment for one morning.

Dave is mercifully asleep, since to him it's a sin to rise before lunchtime. That's what he usually says in interviews, not that you've read them. Well, not that many of them.

The shower is this blessed gift to you and you hurriedly wash yourself off. God, you were a mess- last night must have been pretty intense. No, scratch that, it definitely was. You've been trying not to think about that too much but… it's like you can see Jake's face all over again, hear the noises he made and the way he said your name when he came. Jesus.

Your shower is going to have to last a little longer.

* * *

It takes you a while to get back to Jake's place because you figure you don't need to rush, and you kind of want to make yourself a little more presentable. You can't stand having your hair in such a mess, you can't. It's a point of vanity for you.

Jake's at the kitchen table when you get back (thankfully dressed and showered like you) and shoveling cereal down so fast you think he might choke on it. It's actually a thing you noticed last night- Jake and his grandma eat like they've been starving for weeks.

"Don't choke," you say to get his attention, and he jumps a little and smiles at you, warm as ever and you can't help but to respond, a little less open but your smile is no less genuine.

"Morning, Strider!" he says cheerfully, and you figure he can pause from the one-man eating competition long enough to kiss you, and he does so with way too much enthusiasm for someone who's just woken up. "My grandma was just about to set the hound on you."

"So I heard," you reply, letting out a soft huff of laughter and sitting on the chair next to him, swinging your legs up and resting your feet on his lap. Jake lets out an indignant huff but doesn't say anything to stop you.

The two of you settle into comfortable silence as Jake continues to eat his breakfast, and you watch him but your mind is on last night again. Not on the actual kind-of sex part, but what he said.

Jake said he loves you. You said you love him. Is that a thing people just do during sex? Maybe. Dave didn't really cover that during his shitty version of the sex talk- a powerpoint in Comic Sans featuring Geromy and the Foxy Slunt. Thanks, Dave.

The part about it that's worrying you though isn't that you said it, but that you meant it. And you don't regret saying it at all.

"You're bloody staring again," Jake says, but it's more wearily amused than frustrated. He's used to this by now, used to you living in your head. It's only been four weeks.

"Debating whether to tell you there's a cornflake in your hair." He swats at his hair quickly, frowning and it takes him the best part of two minutes to figure out you were joking.

"What an unrepentant scoundrel you are." You just smirk, pleased with yourself. But then Jake's expression changes, and he runs a hand through his hair slowly, looking a little nervous. "I, er. I actually need to tell you something."

"Alright," you say, your tone as wary as you feel right now.

He sucks in a slow breath, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and your heart beats a little faster. "Er… my grandma, she's a rather well known scientist. And…" Jake twiddles his thumbs, refusing to look at you. Fuck. "Golly. Um. She's long since retired but I think she finds it quite dull? So she's taken this place in a research project or what have you. In Washington next month."

"And you're going." Your voice is completely toneless, because you won't let it betray you. This seemed like such a good morning.

Jake just nods, and you could react in any number of ways. You could get angry and demand that nobody takes your boyfriend away. You could get pathetically anime and squirt a few tears, but you don't do any of that.

You pull your feet back from his lap, getting up from your chair and going over to seat yourself in his lap. He looks up at you, surprise and guilt in his green eyes and you can't stand seeing it, so you kiss him instead, holding onto him tight like maybe if you do then he'll never be able to go.


	7. Chapter 7

For the next two weeks you and Jake do your best not to dwell on the fact that he's leaving even sooner than you thought.

It's fairly easy to distract yourselves. You spend the majority of your time together, although sometimes you generally can't be around Jake for too long without getting a little irritated and moody- you're the same with almost everybody. Jake, like you, is used to isolation and privacy but it seemed to have had the opposite effect on him. You're yet to meet a person that he didn't take a liking to and he revels in the company. Thankfully, though, he understands (or at least accepts) that you need your space and is happy to give you it.

When you are together, though, it's great. Jake will come over to your house and play one-sided 20 Questions with Dave while you watch and (not so) silently judge him for being such a fanboy. Dave likes the attention though and will happily ramble on about Hollywood and how Ben Stiller kind of smells like potatoes and the meticulous process that is putting together a purposefully awful script. Jake is in heaven and it's somehow easier to talk to Dave with him around. It tempers you slightly.

Sometimes you'll go over to Jake's house and the two of you will sit and go through his extensive, terrible movie collection. Any time you voice your objections to his questionable taste he'll virulently protest and explain why Face/Off was actually a MASTERPIECE of cinema, pure genius, until you kiss him to shut him up. This only works occasionally.

Jake has kind of a thing about movies. He likes watching them but you also realize he likes making them. A few days after you find out he's leaving, he starts filming you a lot. It takes some getting used to, the first time you looked up and there was a camera shoved in your face. But you gave up protesting.

You don't even really have to be doing anything for him to consider it worthy of filming. Sometimes you're just reading and you think he's there playing Pokemon, which he absolutely _sucks_at, and then you'll look up, wondering why he isn't swearing his head off over losing his Nidoking again ('I SWAPPED A FUCKING LEVEL 34 SEADRA FOR YOU, YOU TRAITOR!') and he's got his camera focused on you.

Sometimes you don't care if he's filming you- it feeds your vanity a little and it seems to make him happy, you guess.

Other times you throw Cal at Jake and watch him unnecessarily freak out. Film _that,_bitch. Jake is a little afraid of Cal and thinks he's probably Satanic. You're a little heartbroken by that, to be honest, but that isn't gonna stop you from using it to your advantage.

The two of you also spend a lot of time with your hands down each other's pants. (You let him film that, _once,_and afterwards the two of you watched it and ended up on the floor, holding onto each other while you laughed until you practically cried at how ridiculous and awkward the two of you both sounded and looked. It was kind of great but it didn't really achieve its intended purpose.) As yet, though, you and Jake haven't gone much further than that. One time he brought it up, just once, and with his lips on your neck and his hands on your ass it was hard to resist. You were so flustered that you said something moronic of the lines of "You're telling me you want to do the full yaoi, Jake?"and he hasn't brought it up since.

Most of all, though, he likes filming you on the beach. Sometimes you joke that it's because you have your shirt off but Jake will tell you it's because you always look so comfortable, like it's exactly where you want to be. What a big, sappy fuckin' dork.

Basically, with so much going on the time goes fast and you are painfully aware of it. Before you know it, Roxy's home.

You'd managed to forget that Jake's house was actually hers and Rose's, somehow. The two of you have a lot of privacy because Jade has this complete inability to sit still a lot of the time. So needless to say you weren't exactly expecting it when you and him were making out on the couch and this bright pink ball of energy comes flying through the goddamn door.

Roxy stares at you and Jake. You're very comfortably seated in his lap, or you were comfortable before you were subjected to the scrutinizing Lalonde gaze.

Finally her face breaks into this wide grin. "I knew you two were fucking, oh my God! How could you not tell me this, you are the worst best friend. I'm divorcing you. Friend divorce, Dirky."

Jake still looks guilty and seems to have gone catatonic in his embarrassment. You climb out of his lap and go over to wrap your arms around Roxy tightly. You aren't exactly tall- kind of the opposite, actually, but Roxy is still smaller than you so you can pick her up and spin her around. "You'll find it in your heart to forgive me, Rox," you say, finally setting her down but still not letting go of her. Fuck, you missed her. Jake is great but you missed the familiarity of Roxy. You're a whole different kind of comfortable with her.

It takes a minute but Roxy finally lets go of you (you forgot how clingy she is, literally) and turns to Jake. He clears his throat and gets up, extending his hand to her, his cheeks still flushed red. "Miss Lalonde, I wish we could have met in person under, er. Better circumstances."

Roxy completely ignores his hand and throws herself at him next, kissing his cheek. "Pfff, it's not like you're the first guy I've caught Distri mackin' on my couch."

He frowns a little. "Really?"

"Don't listen to this woman, she's drunk cat lady Satan," you say dryly.

She pulls back from Jake to smack you on the shoulder. "My mom hasn't let me drink all vacation, jerk. It's bullshit."

"I like that the drunk part is the only part you're protesting."

"I'm so completely done with you. Jake is my best friend now. You're kicked out of the cool kids club." Roxy slings a skinny arm around Jake's waist and shoots you an exaggerated pout.

"It's an honor," he says, grinning wide and wrapping his arm back around her.

"Holy shit, you bagged yourself a total gentleman. He's mine now."  
You're about to argue back when the door swings open again, and this time you're expecting it. Rose is an unmistakable figure and practically identical to her daughter, small and blonde and slender. Though unlike her daughter, who looks like she'd get blown over by a gust of wind, Rose Lalonde looks like she could comfortably walk through a hurricane. You fucking love Rose. You missed her too.

"Diedrick," she says, her tone as warm as it ever gets, and hugs you tightly. Rose, much like you and Dave, has difficulty with these kind of gestures of affection. When she does give them, they count.

"My name still isn't Diedrick, Lalonde."

"You're yet to present proof of that. So Diedrick you must remain."

"Whatever you say, Rosalyn."

The two of you smirk at each other, and for now this argument is a stalemate. One that's fairly ongoing with you and Rose. Arguing with her could be your own private Olympic sport, except neither of you ever win.

"I take it your grandmother is elsewhere," Rose says, addressing Jake this time, and he nods.

"Dave's home, though," you tell her. Dave and Rose are closer than the average man and wife despite the fact their jobs keep them apart. Often you hear him mumbling into his phone around 2am and you never have to ask who it is or why. It's always been this way.

A smile spreads over Rose's face, and she ruffles your hair quickly (she does this on purpose knowing how hard you work on it, god dammit). "I shall see you all in a few hours, then. No liquor, Roxy, at least wait until nine." And with that Rose is gone.

* * *

"You gotta let me paint your nails, Distri."

"No. Fucking no. The last time you did that you gave me fucking acrylics and stuck them on with some kind of astronaut glue. I looked like a drag queen for two weeks."

"You'd be a hot drag queen." Roxy leans forward, propping her chin in her hand and setting her dark pink eyes on you. You literally know nobody that has a normal eye colour- Dave's are this startling red and Rose's are this lavender colour. To Jake and Jade it must seem like a freak show.

You consider that. "I'm perfectly secure in my masculinity, it's not like I'm afraid of looking like one. I probably would be a hot drag queen, but the fact is that I'm not a drag queen and so shouldn't be looking like one."

Jake and Jade had a flight to Washington to check out the place they're going to be staying, and Roxy immediately claimed you for the day. You know you kind of have a lot you haven't told her, and you aren't going to get away with that for much longer.

"Whatever, I'm not even asking you anyway. Gimme your feet first." She tugs at your ankle (for someone so small, she's really strong) and you reluctantly give in, hoping she at least doesn't paint them pink.

You sigh and tip your head back, your eyes closing behind your shades. It's been a while since you wore them indoors- they tend to knock against Jake's painfully when you kiss and he likes seeing your eyes anyway, so you don't really wear them when he's around. It's like a custom with Roxy, though, so on you they stay. "Alright. Lay the Spanish Inquisition on me, now you've got your iron grip on my foot so I can't escape."

"That was the plan all along, Dirky," Roxy says smugly, and you listen as she digs through more bottles of nail polish than you can even comprehend. You don't want to even look. "So tell me everything I missed. When did you two start tappin' each other?"

"Uh." Shit, when was it. It feels like it's been ages. "Two weeks, three maybe? I don't know. Went by pretty quick, you know." It strikes you that there's something we should probably tell her. "By the way, we fucked in your bed. Like seven times."

"I don't know whether to be grossed out or proud of you." She pauses, and you look forward at her again, watching her unscrew the bottle of nail polish. Purple. You guess it could be worse. "So you did the full yaoi?"

"Jesus Christ. So I picked that line up from _you._" Everything makes sense now. "And no, I mean, we kind of did… the semi quarter yaoi? What the hell, that's the dumbest thing I've ever said."

"Oh. So no horizontal homo tango?"

"Where are you _getting these from._"

"The Internet, dumbo." She starts painting your nails carefully; last time she did this, she got it all over you, your foot, and her. That's some improvement.

"Whoever allowed you on the Internet should be shot." You eye her carefully the entire time. You can't remember the last time you saw Roxy this sober, and it's kind of weird. You think it's an improvement, though.

"I'm telling my mom you said that about her."

"Try it, motherfucker, see what happens."

Roxy looks up at you and you crack identical grins. You didn't realize how much you missed your best friend until about right now.

"So what about you and the girl you met in LA?" you ask, leaning forward to brush a strand of Roxy's blonde hair out of her face- when did she get pink tips? Weird. "Did you and her do the…" Fuck it, the two of you always sound dumb together anyway. "Full yuri?"

Roxy lets out a snort of laughter and her hand jerks a little. You resist the urge to yank your foot back. "I think so. What counts for girls?"

"Everything, I think." You shrug. "Why are you asking _me _about girls?"

She finishes your first foot and meets your gaze again, her grin growing that little bit wider. "Remember when you and me kinda sorta did it?"

"That doesn't even count, shit." You'd almost managed to forget it. Almost. You and Roxy dated for a very, very short period of time and that particular event happened to be what killed it. Violently. With a rock.

"You literally took one look at my downstairs business and it, like, deflated. Like a balloon." Roxy smacks her hand over her mouth to keep from breaking out into giggles, and your cheeks heat up a little.

"_What _deflated?" you ask, feeling like you already know the answer.

"Your wang."

"That is literally the most disgusting thing I've ever heard in my life, including the time Dave compared a vagina to an avocado."

"Still not over that powerpoint, huh?"

"I'll never be over it."

Roxy pauses in her progress on your other foot, and pointedly avoids your gaze before she continues. "So I heard Jake's goin' away in a few weeks."

You stiffen a little and you know she feels it. "Yeah, what are you gonna do. Shit happens."

"…You really like him, huh?" She's still not looking at you, but she seems as tense as you are, like she can feel that this isn't a conversation you really want to have. Even with her.

"How did you get that from 'shit happens'?"

"I know you, Dirky. When you're all cold robot-man about something, that means you care about it. It's totally fruit loopy dumb but that's you."

"I like him," you say slowly, and you're carefully choosing your words. Roxy doesn't need to know about what you said. You and Jake haven't even mentioned it and you haven't said it any time the two of you were together since. "But what good is complaining about him leaving gonna do? Shit all, that's what."

Roxy finishes your other foot, setting the bottle of nail polish down and scooting up to wrap her arm around your shoulder. She's one of the few people in the world you let be this close to you. Her warm, uncomfortably bony body is one of the most comforting things in the world to you.

You rest your head against hers. "I don't… want him to go, Roxy. I'm pretty fucking tired of watching people go. But I can deal with it."

She just nods and doesn't press the subject any further. Like usual, she never gives you any more or any less than exactly what you need.


End file.
